I got a fancy-ass new camera for my birthday. (We shall be discussing Which One with regard to the camera shortly; we shall not, however, be asking Which One with regard to the birthday, because I shall not be Telling, because that particular discussion just fills me with an unutterable despair at the fleeting futility of existence, and while that might be amusing to readers as blog ravings go, it would not be pleasant for me. “Pleasant for me” being one of my top priorities in life, I do my best to avoid things that would not contribute to that goal. So No, we won’t be discussing the aforementioned natal anniversary anymuchfurther, thank you for your time.) (Which is not to say that I’m so hung up on the inevitable process of slowly staggering toward the grave I lie about my age, which I don’t. If I did, I would lie the other way, since I am now at a point in my life, being of a Certain Age and all, that lying that I’m younger than I am is simply embarrassing and uncomfortable for everyone, a bit like Hillary Clinton’s insistence on remaining a glimmering blond with a pony tail—something it pains me, as a longtime admirer of the current Secretary of State, to even mention. At this tender point, telling people I’m thirty-something is either laughingly transparent or, possibly worse, suggests that I’ve had a very hard life indeed, or maybe suffer from some horrific and rare early aging disease for which I’m to be pitied and patted gently on my prematurely wrinkly hand. No, IF I were to lie about my age (which I do not, preferring to simply ignore the whole unpleasant thing) it would be to assure everyone that oh yes I’m 85 and just in really phenomenally awesome shape, the secret to my perpetual vigor and astonishingly smooth and lustrous skin being a combination the plentiful consumption of alcohol, bingeing on exorbitantly high-fat high-sodium food (the oils lubricate the arteries, you see, allowing for a prolonged youthful flow of blood, and salt is mined out of the earth and so really how can eating a rock be particularly harmful). I might also hint vaguely at mysterious ancient Chinese secrets.)

But I digress.

So yes, the fancy-ass new camera. Specifically, my partner, with whom I have spent the past decade doing our level best to destroy the institution of marriage, corrupt the young, and generally annoy a surprisingly large number of people simply by existing and taking up space, gave me a Nikon D7000.

This camera will now replace my formerly-beloved D90 (how quickly they fall from most-favored when the newer, younger, shinier, faster one with way more functions show up–wait, we’re still talking about cameras, right?). This is not to say in any way that the D90 was sub-par or disappointing. The photos featured in this blog, as well as on my photo gallery website (EButterfield Photography, he shameslessly plugged, virtually begging for click-throughs) were all done with the D90.

Oh but my pretty new love. The D7000 has the same pebbly texture as the D90; its body has a more solid, hefty feel (I understand this is the result of a magnesium alloy body and a slightly thicker rubber coating), and is just discernably wider. It also has (and I understand exactly how superficial and unprofessional this makes me sound) a deeper, more mechanically resonant “click” when the shutter does its thing. I know, I know, that’s not really a meaningful observation, but it’s nonetheless true and nonetheless significant for me. You know when you stand outside a car and close its door, there’s an audible distinction between a low-end compact and a high-end luxury car—there’s a distinct difference in the sound made by lightweight aluminum hitting more lightweight aluminum, and the sound made by layers of metal and rubber and money gliding together. It’s a deep-bass sound that the ear recognizes as Good.

Hence, the better click.

Here’s a photo of Gimli, our cat, taken with the D90:

And here’s a photo of the same Gimli, using the D7000:

The D7000 has two memory card slots, which is a truly wonderful thing for someone who, it would appear, is under the impression that if one shot of a subject is good, 30 or 40 are better. One never knows, you know. Insurance. Just to be sure. OK, so I’m not proud of my profligacy, but it’s mine.

It has up to 39 focus points, so there’s really no excuse for anyone being blurry.

The D7000 also has more autofocus presets than you can shake a stick at, for everything from “autumn leaves” to “city at night” or “children” for heavensake. I’m not one for using a lot of those, but it’s nice that they’re there.

The battery has a much longer life (and that initial battery-bursting-into-flames thing that spurred a D7000 recall last summer has apparently been dealt with, since I’ve experienced no spontaneous combustions), and the D7000’s maximum shutter spend (1/8000) is twice that of the D90.

The bottom line is that this is one fancy-ass camera. I intend to do commit some fancy-ass photography with it.

LensCaps

I've undertaken a new photographic series that takes male anime characters and dramatically (and shamelessly) strips them down to the barest prop-and-costume elements necessary to tie them to their roots, but all suggestion of little-boyishness are gone; these are very grown-up versions of the characters they portray.

In my last post, I wrote about my ongoing "Old Red Chair" series. Well, on a recent visit to my dad's home in Las Vegas, I was showing him some of my recent work, and one of my experimental photos grabbed his attention...

The point of the Old Red Chair series is to explore the male form in "conversation" with a specific object; the poses change, the chair stays the same, the focus is on the interaction between linear and organic forms. One of my models suggested that the point is that there are multiple ways not to sit in a chair, which is certainly appropriate.

Google helpfully sends me alerts in my email when their multitudinous clever little crawlers stumble over a reference to me or my website. That’s good. What’s not so good is when Google helpfully informs me that my book, Ather & Rhyme, Being a Collection of Beloved, Morally-Improving Faerie Tales & Nursery Rhymes from the Dawn […]

When I was a child, about four or so, I had a vivid nightmare that I still remember, mumbldy-mumble years later: I’m going down the steps into our basement (the massive, multi-armed furnace and my mom’s washer/dryer; my dad’s workshop (it was the early ’60s, remember)–the warm smell of sawdust and the sweetly metallic tang of […]

For I dipt into the future far as human eye could see; Saw the Vision of the world and all the wonder that would be. Steampunk is all about the past; an alternative past, of course, but the past nonetheless. Victoria, and massive steam-driven, gear-whirling complexities; the apotheosis of Science and Engineering, and all the applied […]

[There follows here the Compleat Tenth Chapter, including Illustrations and Notes, from Mr. Butterfield’s recently-published Gentlemen of Steampunk 2, being a companion volume to its predecessor, currently available for purchase at The Amazon Store.] Perhaps no single individual did more to establish the character of what we think of when we hear the phrase, […]

The Steampunk universe, which is kaleidoscopically creative in its applied manifestations, is nonetheless consistently embedded in the 19th century. That 19th century (predominantly occurring in the former British Empire or the American West) was not, as they say, gay-friendly. And while Steampunk enthusiasts are a generally accepting sort, and while conveni […]

Ever since I started the whole “Steampunk Beefcake” thing (handsome, fit young gentlemen in an assortment of neo-Victorian fantasy costumes and proppage) I’ve been hearing one comment fairly consistently: You should do a calendar. So I did a calendar, and I’m shamelessly promoting it here. So before I go on to opine about the calendar-making […]

Originally posted on Airship Ambassador: This week we are talking with photographer Evan Butterfield, creator of Gentlemen of Steampunk. ? Airship Ambassador: Hi Evan, thanks for joining us! Evan Butterfield: It’s a pleasure. AA: What is Gentlemen of Steampunk about? EB: Well, “about” could get a little complicated, because it’s not a story with a…